LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliap.- . Copyright No 

fr'^^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




LYMAN H. SPROULL. 



In the Lund of the Columbine 



BY 

LYMAN H. SPROULL, 

Author of '-Snowy Summits," ''Camp and Cottage, 
"Lines by Laini)li<ilit." 



CHICAGO, ILL. 

SCROLL PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

1900 



Copyrighted, 1900 

by 
Lyman H. Sproull. 



34997 



? 



Library of Congrees 
Two COPtES ReCEJVEO 

JUL 23 1900 

S£CUND COPY. 

0«(«ver«(4 t« 

ORDER DIVISION, 

JUL 27 19U0 



66334 



TO 

WINFIELD L. SCOTT. 

I take pleasure, my dear friend, in dedica- 
ting tliis book to you, not only as an ex- 
pression of friendship, but in memory of the 
few happy weeks we spent together in the 
canons and among the peaks of Colorado. 

L. H. S. 

Cripple Creek. July, 1899. 



CONTENTS 



Colorado, 

I. Nooks of Nature. 

Prelude. 

Evenin^i, 

Paths of Childhood. 

Morning at the Ranch, 

Familiar Phantoms. 

The Close of Day, 

In Darkness. 

Footprints of Time, 

The Grove at Sunset. 

Song, 

II. Quatrains. 

Th«' Isle of Clouds, 

Ambition. 

The iMornuis; Star, 

Outdoor Industry, 

The Goal of Happiness, 

Moonrise on the Plains, 

The March of Winds, 

Dawn. 

Dew-drops. 

The Past, 

The Banks of Summer. 

This Life, 

Path of Cobwebs, 

The Sense of Right. 

The Listening Roses. 

The Benighted Soul, 

Under the Pines, 

The Rust of Idleness. 

A Summer Moon, 

The Rain. 

Jewels of the Soul. 

Rain Clouds, 

The Wild Rose, 

The Unattainable, 

Colorado Whirlwinds, 

The Cherry Tree, 

True Gold, . 

The Mountain King, 

A Bloom From Antiquity. 

The Poets. 

Dreams of Love. 

Winter Nights, 

Flying Clouds, 

The Fountains of the Worlds 

The Knd'ePS Chain, 

Approaching Night, 

Human Judges. 

Ownershiji, 



PAGES 

13 



27 





PAGES 


The Sea of Soiio, .... 


45 


The Thouohts of God, .... 


46 


To>.'Mture, ..... 


46 


Deiith, ..... 


46 


The North Star, .... 


■47 


The Path of Ancestry. 


47 


The Real, ..... 


47 


The Diiy of a Sage. .... 


48 


The First Star, .... 


48 


Bisot. . . . . 


48 


Your Model. .... 


49 


The Sun Never Waits, 


49 


The All-life. . . . . . . 


49 


The ^Sliser, ..... 


50 


The Slave, .... 


50 


Ambition's Palace, .... 


50 


The Step of Death, 


51 


The waves, ..... 


51 


The False and the True, 


51 



III. Parlor Theories of the Globe. 

IV. Songs from Mountain Lands. 

Prelude, 

Morning. 

On the Mountain-side, 

The Death of Autumn. 

A Colorado Night, 

The Mountain, . 

Nature's Poets. 

The Wind, 

Twilight, 

Autumn, 

Song, 

V. Sun and Shadow. 

Song, 

Tonight, 

Rock. Boat, Rock Away, 

The Passing of Death. 

Good-night, 

God at Work, 

Love is a Flower, 

The CJrove in Winter, 

The Bees and the Bear, 

This World, 

The Day of Life, 

God's Flowers, 

Each Day is a Life, 

The Flower, 

A Sand Storm, 

Memorial Day, 

Evening Shadows, 

Luna's Housekeeping, 

A December Day, 

The Prayer, 

Echoes, 

Song, 



55 



87 





91 


92 




93 




95 




96 




97 




98 




99 




99 




100 




101 




102 




103 




104 




105 




106 




107 




108 




* 1C9 




110 




111 




112 



IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



COLORADO. 

Fair land of the columbine — land where lies 
The soft, warm wealth of the sun-filled skies, 
Where the long, green slopes of the needled pines, 
Are alive to the touch of the flowing winds, 
And the mesas break on the mountain pass 
With their perfumed, wind-swept tides of grass. 

Great jutting spurs with their buttes below; 
Dead craters sealed with their ice and snow, 
High cliffs where the pinons drop their nuts 
By the rocky trail, in the granite ruts, — 
Where the summer torrents sweep and leap 
From the arching brow of the dizzy steep 
To the gorge below . 

Still, desolate plains, 
Which thirst for a drink from the seldom rains; 
Where the drifting clouds, with their great white 

wings. 
Lift up from the level like living things. 
To change and scatter and fade away 
In the warm, blue depths of the passing day. 



Unancliored from the frozen hearts 
Of men among our moneyed marts, 
We spread our sail and (/lide alonf/ 
The siveet celestial sea. of song. 



PART L 

NOOKS OF NATURE. 



NOOKS OF NATURE. 



PRELUDE. 

I 
Dim nooks in the woodland which sleep in the haze 

Of the soft Indian summer enwrapping the crest 
Of the low mountains lying thro' still sunny days 

Like a land in a dream- builded haven of rest — 
Where the sun looking in thro' the dim woody ways, 

Drops down like a flame-ridden world in the west. 

ji 
Green isles of the tropics which, pillowed in foam, 

Sleep on with their da3'-d reaming, moss-streaming trees, 
Where the wild, wary natives of solitude roam 

Thro' the hush of the jungle, or gaze o'er the seas 
Which shine softly before them, where headed for home, 

The sail of the trader is spread to the breeze. 

Ill 
Hushed places hid deep in the mid-summer hills 

Where the vine and the wine-tinted roses amass. 
Where the sun intermingles with fountains and rills 
And the bloom-sprinkled, wind-wrinkled meadows of 
grass ; 
Where the lilt of the songster is heard as she builds 
To fill you and thrill you wherever you pass. 

IV 

Low land of the prairies where sunset so oft 

Lies banked 'gainst the groves on the grass-scented 
plain , 

Where the light- breasted, bright-crested singer aloft. 
Pours forth his glad song in the day's lurid wane; 

And the hush in the twilight of branches is soft. 
Where the bush is a-tremble with jewels of rain. 



20 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

V 

Dark forests which rest like the clouds of the fall, 
Where the far polar mornings, in glory enrolled. 

Blaze over the sea-bounded, ice-rounded wall, 
And burnish the age-beaten monarchs with gold, 

Where the ring of the ax and the thud of the maul 
Are unknown to the peace- breathing children of cold. 

VI 

White summits, sharp broken, which pierce the abode 
Of the soft shining clusters of stars which are pinned 

To the light-rifted, night lifted curtains of God, — 
While the deep-dreaming shadows of twilight descend 

To the plains with their bison-tracked, weather-cracked 
sod 
Overrun by the wild, fleeing wolves of the wind. 

VII 

Fair nooks of Dame Nature — enchanting, divine — 
Dim haunts in the bird-raided, fir-shaded glen; 

The land of the palm and the land of the pine. 
Which call us away from the strivings of men. 

To rove in the wilds of the rose and the vine. 
And rest in our God-given Eden again. 



NOOKS OF NA I URE. 21 



EVENING. 

Sunset lingers thro' the town, 

And those tow 'ring peaks of white, 
Standing 'twixt the day and night, 

Cast their shadows, looking down — 

Looking down and o'er the parks, 
Lonely in the mountain land. 
Where the kindled pinons stand, 

And the wild coyote barks. 

High above the town and higher. 
Drifts the smoke in dreamy light. 
While the western windows bright. 

Blaze and burn with sunset's fire. 

Cut.in wastes of shining snow 

Round the aspen clumps and pines, 
Long the trail descends and winds, 

Leading to the town below. 

^'ear the zenith, blue and cold. 
Heaven's silvery moon is hung, 
With her gems the snows among, 

While the west has hid her gold. 

Darker yet the shadows fall, 
Floating, fading into night. 
While the mountains, vast and white, 

Cast a orrandeur over all. 



IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



PATHS OF CHILDHOOD. 

Paths of childhood 

Leading thro' 
Groves and meadows 

Kissed with dew; 
Ever onward, 

On and on, 
Thro' youth rosy 

Reach of dawn. 

O'er the gardens. 

Thro' the corn, 
Came the fragrant 

Breatli of morn ; 
From the woodland 

Swept the song 
Out of bird- land 

All day long — 
Dying only 

When the sun 
O'er the western 

AVorld was "one. 



NOOKS OF NATURE. 23 



MORNING AT THE RANCH. 

The gate of morning slowly opes 

To spread the soft and radiant change 

Of dawn upon the rugged slopes, 

Which form the distant snowy range. 

Far on the height the early light 

Creeps down the pines, along the snow, 

To rescue from the grasp of night. 
The aspens on the parks below. 

Down at the ranch the huddled sheep 
Snuff at the breeze which fills the morn. 

While softly on the fleecy heap 
The infant smiles of day are born . 

The shepherd dogs along the sheds, 
Stroll with the light upon their breast. 

And turn their knowing, clear-cut heads, 
To where their charge is still at rest. 

Far thro' the chilly mountain air 

They sight the Spanish Range aglow, 

While on their backs the ruffled hair 
Betrays the wind from off the snow. 

Vast summits, looming from the plain, 
Where breaks the airy flood of light 

Against the tow'ring mountain chain — 
As breaking on the wall of night. 

Now from their dewy beds the flocks 
String out along the rocky ways. 



24 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

Wind up the bills, around the rocks, 
To face the sun's bewildering blaze. 

How soon the mountain land's astir! 

How soon the bright'ning parkland fills 
With tinkling bells, which, faint and far, 

Chase echoes thro' the pinon hills. 



NOOKS OF NATURE. 25 



FAMILIAR PHANTOMS. 

When the night draws in from the eastern plain, 
And the day steals out to the western peaks, 

I watch by my cabin again — again 

I see the mist-phantoms crawl up the creeks. 

They go where the night- winds bid them go, 
Far up the canons, a wind-swept flock. 

In dark browed gulches and clefts below. 

They roost with the shadows on shelves of rock. 

When the light steals in from the eastern plain. 
And the night goes out by the western peaks, 

I watch by my cabin again — again 

The white winged phantoms sail down the creeks. 

So pale and so ghostly, they face the day, 

Blown out from the canons, they crowd and pour; 

And glide on the waters as banks of gray, 
Or trail o'er the willows along the shore. 



26 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINK. 



THE CLOSE OF DAY. 

The day wheels overhead and spills 
Its life along the jagged west, 
Where hangs the sun's vermillion nest 

In clouds above the purple hills. 



Outlined as^ainst the orange walls 
Of sunset, and the ashen cloud, 
The mountains stand serene and proud, 

To watch the even as she falls. 



Now blending with each varied change, 
The vast day settles out of sight — 
A boundless, soundless sea of light — 

And twilight veils the outmost range. 



NOOKS OF NATURE. 27 



IN DARKNESS. 

The daylight steals from out my room — 
So softly, shyly steals away — 
Thin, ragged edges of the day, 

Which night weaves in her gown of gloom, 

My shadow fades upon the wall, 
Grim Silence wraps her web around 
The dead, delivered breath of sound, 

And darkness settles over all. 



28 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



FOOTPRINTS OF TIME, 

He wisely readeth Nature 
In every age and clime, 

Who traces by his footprints 
The works of Father Time. 



He finds them in the sunset 
And in the morning's blush; 

He finds them in the tempest 
And in the Sabbath hush. 

They mark the grassy hillside, 
The valley land below, 

They track the perfumed forest, 
The tow'ring peak of snow. 

The rocks contain the mystery 

Of life in other days, 
Which opened , give the history 

Of Time's recorded ways. 

The moon and stars above him, 
Along their orbits hurled. 

Bespeak the wondrous story 
Which fills the baby world. 

The struggling souls about him, 
With thoughts and feeling rife, 

He sees as soldiers tramping 
The upward march of Life. 

The storm, the flood, the season, 
The change in brute and man , 
To him are Time's unfolding 
Of God's evolving plan. 



NOOKS OF NATURE. 29 



THE GROVE AT SUNSET. 

The grove has donned the rosy blush 

Of distant sunset sky, 
And dropped to sweet and solemn hush 

Before my watchful eye. 

The birds are settling in the nest, 
V/ith sleepy eyes, which close 

To dream of visions in the west, 
And colors in the rose. 



From gold to amber — dyinj? out— 

The sunset, fading fast 
With fragments of its tints about, 

Till twiliffht falls at last. 



30 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



SONG. 

Slumber, love, beneath the leaves. 

Slumber with thy dreams; 
Slumber while the night- wind grieves 

'Neath the starry beams; 
Slumber when the ev'ning dies; 

Slumber at the dawn; 
Slumber with thy closed eyes; 

Slumber, slumber on. 

Slumber in thy narrow home 

While the flowers blow; 
Slumber when the northers come 

With their freight of snow; 
Slumber with thy humble trust 

In the loving One; 
Slumber into sacred dust; 

Slumber, slumber on , 



PART II. 

QUATRAINS. 



QUATRAINS. 



THE ISLE OF CLOUDS. 

At blush of sunset now do I behold 

A cloud-built island filled with rose and gold, 
While all around it lies a cold blue sea 

Of ether, starless, motionless, and cold. 



AMBITION. 

The day rekindles into tlame 

Ambition — the desire for fame — 

While night is filled with softer beams 
Where lost ambition finds no name. 



S 



THE MORNING STAR. 

Upon the forehead of the earlj^ dawn, 

Ere yet the sun from flaming depths had risen, 

I watched it, asking, Has some dear one, gone. 
Hung me this signal from the porch of heaven? 



34 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



OUTDOOR INDUSTRY. 



I muse, half dreaming, on the scented grass: 

What thoughts these sights, these murmurings suggest! 

Here, bee by bee, the freights of honey pass. 
There, bird b}^ bird, twig-timber for a nest. 



J' 



THE GOAL OF HAPPINESS. 

The goal of Happiness, resembles, friend. 
The buried treasure of the bow we chase. 

For when we've journeyed to the rainbow's end 
Alas! 'tis faded — or has changed its place. 



J^ 



MOONRISE ON THE PLAINS. 

From out the depths of atmosphere. 
The full, rich moon ascends to sit 

Upon the level plains — so near. 
The lone coyote speaks to it. 



QUATRAINS. 35 



THE MARCH OF WINDS 

I pause to hear the march of winds 
Across the fields of sounding pines, 

Against the flame-pierced clouds, that swoon 
Far down the sullen afternoon. 



^ 



DAWN. 

We find between the wrong and right, 
A struggling conscience born, 

As ever 'twixt the day and night, 
We see the tints of morn . 



DEW-DROPS. 

As dew-drops tremble on the flower. 
Swayed by the gentle breeze of even. 

So minutes tremble on the hour. 

Stirred by the moving stars of heaven, 



36 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE PAST. 



The door is closed, but the specter stands 
By Memory's window with beckoning hands, 
And gazes back with a longing gaze. 
On the blighted meadows of other days. 



^ 



THE BANKS OF SUMMER. 

The warm, right bank of summer, lined with buds 
And nodding flowers of the scented June; 

While on her left bank stand the smoky woods 
Of tinted autumn in the silent noon. 



THIS LIFE. 

Live this life right; what if it be the last, 

'Twill do no harm, if there be millions more; 

To-day is better for a good day past, 
Each morrow hinges on the day before. 



QUATRAINS. 37 



PATH OF COBWEBS. 

Across the stubble and the aftermath, 

Set thick in shadow, where the spiders spun 

We see at even a wide, woven path 

Of cobwebs, reaching to the half-hid sun. 



THE SENSE OF RIGHT. 

Work out your scanty sense of right; 

It may be wrong, but your desire 
To do the right, to gain the light. 

Will raise you higher, bring you nigher 



THE LISTENING ROSES. 

The flame of sunset fills the bush, 
Where roses, red and white. 

Are listening in the even hush 
To catch the step of night. 



38 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE BENIGHTED SOUL. 

As Noah's dove from out the sullen dark 
Of sad, subsiding waters, brought its leaf, 

Shall this lone soul returning to the ark, 
Carry a token of departing grief ? 



^ 



UNDER THE PINES. 

The tints of even now are gone; 

Above me I can hear the winds 
Move in their cone-beds, while the night 

Is softly settling thro' the pines. 



THE RUST OF IDLENESS. 

There is a rust in idleness, 

Which, long upon the conscience lain, 
'Twill take a stronger hand than ours 

To brighten up this life again. 



QUATRAINS. _J^ 



A SUMMER MOON. 



Midnight : a round , belated moon — 
Dim dawn: a pallid satellite on high — 

Past sunrise: one dim, silvery shield 
Hung midway on the western sky. 



THE RAIN. 

Who has not heard the happy feet of rain 

Dance to the windy flutes which fill the night! 

Stop short; and then dance, joyous, on again 
Across the shingles in a dream's delight. 



JEWELS OF THE SOUL. 

As the gems along the shoal. 
Mirrored in the water nigh. 

So the jewels of the soul 
Are reflected in the eye. 



40 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



RAIN CLOUDS. 

Black clouds which, anchored by the ram, 
Fade out before day's gaudy glare, 

Or hovering o'er the sunset wane, 
Drop cables thro' the ocean air. 



THE WILD ROSE. 

Deep in the shadowed woodland hall, 
She sits 'mid banks of bloom and bud. 

To watch the soft, sweet sunlight fall 
Thro' dark blue windows of the wood. 



J- 



THE UNATTAINABLE. 

We measure the land and we sound the sea; 

We weigh the worlds and the stars discover. 
But the reach of Space and Eternity 

Remain un probed, — and as grand as ever. 



QUATRAINS. 41 



COLORADO WHIRLWINDS. 

The heavens whip their tops of wind 
From cords of lightning o'er the plain, 

AVhile rolling, thundering close behind, 
The Storm-god wheels his Cart of Rain, 



THE CHERRY TREE. 

Outlined against the woodland gloom, 
We sight the dainty cherry tree; 

A perfumed cloud of spotless bloom. 
Which breaks its bread to bird and bee. 



TRUE GOLD. 

True gold is never old, for when 
It meets the flame 'tis young again; 

And so true love is ever young 

While shining in the hearts of men. 



42 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE MOUNTAIN KING. 

His crown is snow; his robes are sun; 

Bedecked with flowers wild and sweet, 
He has the wind to sing his songs, 

And lauffhino^ brook to wash his feet. 



J' 



A BLOOM FROM ANTIQUITY. 

Once dreaming idly o'er a poet's page, 
Forgotten on the misty shelf of age, 

A rose burst forth, and lo! what perfumed wealth 
Came floating from the garden of the Sage! 



THE POETS. 

God blesses us in every light 

And fills our trusting souls with song; 
Yes, fills our hearts when they are right, 

But empties them when they are wrong. 



QUATRAINS. 43 



DREAMS OF LOVE. 

When dreams of love illume the face 
Until it glows with fervent fire, 

Behold! a messao^e comes of peace 
Along the soul's electric wire. 



WINTER NIGHTS. 

How many a lover on such nights as these, 

Has stood, half-dreaming, on some winter crest. 

To watch the moon among the naked trees 
Hang like an unpiucked orange in the west. 



FLYING CLOUDS. 

White barks which thro' the ocean air. 
Speed on before the lashing winds, 

To pass thro' mountain gaps afar, 
Or founder on the upland pines. 



44 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE FOUNTAIN OF THE WORLDS. 

Is there a fountain where the worlds 
Gush forth and, flowing, fill the brink 

Of Universe ; where 'mong the pearls 
The o^ods kneel down to drink? 



THE ENDLESS CHAIN. 

The chain of endeavor, which man must ever 
Count link after link, will never be run; 

We hope, we aspire, we wish, we desire. 
But we stand no nearer the end when done. 



APPROACHING NIGHT. 

The sunset's fire has kindled all the pines 

Which brotv the red cliffs bathing in the light, 

While softly whispering come the cool, crisp winds 
With drowsy tidings of approaching night. 



QUATRAINS. 45 



HUMAN JUDGES. 

We judge the world from benches of our own. 

And earth to us is what we are to earth; 
We see no heights beyond our mental zone, 

And weigh no qualities beyond our worth. 



e^ 



OWNERSHIP. 

These acres here do not belong to me; 

By no man's law can I proclaim them mine; 
But j^onder chains of purple peaks we see, 

Are mine by nature and by right divine. 



THE SEA OF SONG. 

Unanchored from the frozen hearts 
Of men among our moneyed marts. 

We spread our sail and glide along 
The sweet celestial sea of sona:. 



46 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE THOUGHTS OF GOD. 

The thoughts of God are mapped on every wing 
Of bird or insect which creation knows; 

Expressed in every living form and thing, 
And printed on the leaves of every rose. 



J' 



TO NATURE. 

To nature and to nature's God, 
Oh, may I ever loyal prove; 

Portrayer of her seas and sod. 
And sins^er of her worlds above. 



DEATH. 

To some death seems a kind of moat around 
Life's city, where the fallen souls, denied 

God's drawbridge, twinkle in the depths profound. 
And watch the few lights gain the other side. 



QUATRAINS. 47 



THE NORTH STAR. 

Far in the northern portico 

Of heaven thro' the quiet night, 

She watches till the morning's glow, 
And then, retiring, snuffs her light. 



^ 



THE PATH OF ANCESTRY. 

A million sepulchres are laid 

As stepping stones, which leading up 
From out the mist of ages, stop 

For me — to fill the next grave made. 



THE REAL. 

The bloom which quickly fades and dies. 
Our hearts most truly love and prize; 

The flower which stands in sculptured stone, 
Remains unloved, unsought, alone. 



48 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE DAY OF A SAGE. 

The day of a sage adds more to time 
Than the life of a savage tribe; 

And a kind word spoken is more sublime 
Than the books of a cynic scribe. 



THE FIRST STAR. 

Far distant sun! heroic star! 

Who dares to plant his camp-fire light 
To twinkle on the dim frontier, 
• In that vast wilderness of night. 



BIGOT. 

The one whose mind-horizon lies 
But little way beyond his eyes, 
Is oft the one who thinks he sees 
Far into Heaven's mysteries. 



QUATRAINS. 49 



YOUR MODEL. 



Choose but the best in everything; 

Your model should be high; 
And nothing short of the divine 

Should ever satisfy. 



^ 



THE SUN NEVER WAITS. 

The sun never waits for the praises of rnan, 

But pulls up the curtain of day, 
While man ever waits for the clapping of hands. 

Ere he starts with his next little play. 



THE ALL-LIFE. 

It rears the spheres in the heavens above, 
Where the banners of God are furled, 

And it fills and it thrills and it clothes the hills 
Of this beautiful star-born world. 



50 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE MISER. 



Sad, slavish soul, that might be free! 

Hard, hoarding, grasping hands which use 
This part of God's eternity 

In heaping up what they must lose. 



THE SLAVE. 



I pity him whose narrow view 
Makes him a Godless slave 

To gold, which may be taken to, 
But not beyond the grave. 



AMBITION'S PALACE. 

The glittering palace which Ambition rears, 
A distant goal thro' all our youthful 3'ears, 

Becomes an empty, echo-haunted shell 
When we've attained it with our orold — and tears. 



QUATRAINS. 51 



THE STEP OF DEATH. 



The step of Death is heard upon the stair; 

The door swings slowly, while we see the night 
Thrust dusky fingers in the tumbled hair, 

And bid the world sink softly out of sight. 



THE WAVES. 



The silent waves which race the restless main, 
Have sealed within their bosom, song and speech 

Qt sirens, which they liberate again, 
In plaintive music on the pebbly beach. 



THE FALSE AND THE TRUE. 

Ambition earthly, with the clay. 
Moulds faces withered in a day; 
Ambition Heavenly, with the truth. 
Moulds faces which retain their j'Outh. 



PART III. 

PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 



A company of young people collect at the home of an enter- 
taining- aunt for an evening's discussion of some of the 
late theories of the globe. 

Persons - Harvey, poet-philosopher, lately returned from a 
summer's outing. His brother and sister, George and 
Anna; Jenny, an admirer of the young poet, and hei' 
brother Willis. 

Locality — The cottage parlor. 

Present — George, Anna, Willis, Jenny, and the Aunt. 



Geo. 
Well, here we are, Aunt Mary — quite a school 
We make, indeed, of young philosophers. 
We come to probe, discuss and study out 
The whys and icherefores of our little globe, — 
Explaining things quite unexplainable, 
And proving something of their nothingness. 

Aunt Mary. 
And where is Harvey ? — you invited him; 
Our party's incomplete without a poet. 

Anna. 

He said he'd come, but I have learned of late 
To know that he is not reliable. 
He is my brother, and, of course, I think 
The world of him — but then it seems to me. 
All poets much prefer the pale faced moon 
To lighted parlors filled with happy friends. 



56 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

They wander out on quiet nights like this, 
By lonely ways to shun the face of man , 
In fact the face of every smiling thing — 
To go companion with the lonely winds, 
And gaze upon that orb in which they see 
Sights out of sight to others. 

Geo. 

Never mind, 
Let's start the ball a-roUing. We'll enjoy 
Ourselves while poets gaze upon the moon; 
We are philosophers^ come to debate 
Those weighty questions which concern our globe. 
And not fair Luna — that unloving maid 
Has long been truant to the Mother Earth, 
Who cast her off so many ages since, 
And bade her go; — retreating thro' the door 
Of heav'n she now is on her lonely way; 
Let her depart; she is no good to us; 
Leave her to bards. The question is, Resolved 
That earth is earth — 

Anna. 

That earth is earth! — well, yes; 
What could it be, I ask, if not the earth; 
A cabbage head, or, like the moon, green cheese? — 
I much regret that Harvey is not here; 
His queer conceptions of the world, ]'m sure. 
Would much amuse us. 

Willis. 

That may be, and yet 
Your brother has, indeed, a wiser head 
Than any of us, for he reads the books 
Of all the deepest thinkers of the day. 



P ARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 57 

Anna. 
Yes, yes! and that's what frightens me! He reads 
The books of Darwin and those other chaps 
Who claim that men sprang from the monkeys — well, 
No doubt they did for some are monkeys yet. 
He also ponders much upon the works 
Of noted theorists, who think that they 
Have fully solved the mystery of life. 
He calls it "evolution." "higher thought," 
But for my part I can't see where the thought 
Is very high, to think God's masterpiece 
Evolved from something soulless as a cat! 
I also grieve to think he wastes his time 
With rocks and fossil bones which he collects 
From everywhere, as well as wretched books 
Of bad Darwinians. No good, I fear. 
Can ever come of it in any way. 

Willis. 
Well, Anna, are you certain that a cat 
Is soulless, quite? Darwin himself did not 
Believe in half he wrote — he only wished 
He might amuse the ministers, I'm told. 

Geo. 
Our brother now, I think, has changed his mind; 
The trip to Colorado seemed to do 
Him worlds of good. He speaks no more to us 
Of theories relative to ape and man. 
His mind is now absorbed by other thoughts. — 
At times he seems as happy as a clam , 
As if he held some secret in his bosom; 
But lately he has met with serious loss, 
I chance to know, which makes him very blue. 
He had a bird, or something, in his trunk 
Which he brought from a Colorado range; 



58 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

I heard him telling mother if the house 
Should chance to get on fire, and he away, 
To never mind the books or specimens. 
But save that trunk. 

And mother told me since 
That he had lost the treasure — bird or bat — 
What ever it could be — I'll call it It^ 
For want of something better, for you see 
I never dared to ask him what It was. 

It seems he was admiring It one day. 
Within h\s fossil parlor, where he keeps 
His freak menagerie. By some mishap 
It got away, and swooping thro' the air. 
It gained the open window and escaped. 
He looked for It for days, and yet It roams 
A stranger in the orchard or the field — 
And much, indeed, he mourns the loss of IL 

Willis . 

Well, George, it may have been the "missing link." 
May be that boy will some day finish what 
Darwin has left unfinished to the world. 
He's bright enough. 

Anna. 

Oh, bright enough, indeed! 
And he's aware of it as well as we; 
Therefore he has his pleasant summer trips. 
To supplement his schooling with the peaks 
And dried up river beds — the rest of us 
Must be content with picnics close at home. 

Aunt Mary. 
Now how does all this talk concern the earth? 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 59 



Geo. 
And don't feel envious, sister. He should go 
To follow up the river-drifts in search 
Of "missing links;" — he understands the hunt 
While we do not; so picnics do for us. 

Anna. 
I heard him telling father once about 
An ancient ape; — how it became the man 
By snatching up a fire-brand, ablaze 
From some volcanic lave — how he fled 
With It aloft, held tightly in his hand, 
Thro' forests dark and dismal where the beasts 
Stared wildly at the fire-animal! 
How all the birds went screaming to the skies, 
And all the forest denizens were cowed. 
Declaring him the mighty king of all! 

Willis . 
Well, man's the only fire-animal; 
The only one who dares to tamper with 
The flame, as you must know, so if the ape 
Plucked up enough of courage in his heart 
To seize and handle fire for defense 
Against his brother beasts, why not the man9 

Anna. 
And I have heard it said so many times. 
That man's the only animal that laughs; 
The only one that should be laughed at, then 

Aunt Maky. 
But what has this to do with our own globe? 
You talk a minute and you stray a mile; 
Tlfe earth is what we're here to talk about. 



60 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

Willis. 
Now I remember something Harvey said 
Upon this subject; — we were looking thro' 
The small museum in his private room. 

He told me every little spark which flies 

Into the gloomy silence of the night 

From out the camp-fire of the wanderer, 

Is but a world, which using, so he claims, 

The fire beneath it for its solar sun , 

It whirls and curls and twirls itself around 

Until it cools suflficient for a life, 

Which then appears upon its smutty face. 

Oceans and lakes and towering mountain peaks, 

And plains and valleys, rivers gushing forth; 

And forms of life; — yes, even ape and man 

Are formed in miniature, and as to time. 

Our seconds to these little falling sparks 

Are years and ages filled with history. 

Anna. 

Now what a thought, that while the camper sleeps 
And dreams beside his fire, all the night 
Above him is alive with shining worlds, 
Inhabited by living creatures, which 
Look down upon his camp-fire as a sun, 
Yet can not see their Maker, as it were. 
Beside his embers in the chilly night. 
As there he dreams, neglectful of their fate. 
And quite unconscious of the startling fact. 
That thus between his breaths the millions die, 
To sink with ashes of their little worlds 
Into the night of grasses. 

Geo. 

Quite as bad, 
Dear sister, as the flooding of the world. 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 61 



I've also heard him say that he believes, 
Or thinks it probable, at least, that all 
The moving stars upon the face of heaven 
Are but volcanic particles, blown out 
From some great crater of a mammoth world. 
To float above the tree tops, as the dust 
Would float in rings above our orchard trees. 
When hurled from off a passing carriage wheel 

Jenny. 
You two are having lots of fun, it seems, 
About your brother's theories, while my own 
Good brother is inclined to help you out. 

Anna. 

Hello! why, Jenny, how you startled me! 
You've been so silent, sitting there alone 
Beside the window, that we had indeed 
Forgotten you . 

Willis. 
She's waiting for her lover. 

Anna. 

Oh, waiting for her lover — She has none. 

Why Jenny, think of it: if I were you, 

And Harvey 'd given me so cold a shake 

As not to take me anywhere, I think 

I'd not so much as look at him again. 

You used to be together half your time; 

In fact I thought — well, never mind that now- 

I thought you'd be great friends at any rate; 

But he's too deep in his philosophy. 

Too much a poet of the "higher thought," 

To be a lover of the lower things. 



62 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

Jenny . 
I thank you, Anna; it does make me proud 
For you to class me with the lower things. 

Anna. 

I beg your pardon, dear, I did not mean 

To class yon with the things; come, let's make up. 

Aunt Mary. 
Now this is very interesting — this talk 
On problems of our globe. 

Anna. 

But Aunty, dear, 
There is so very much to think about; 
So very much I fear which may decide 
Our future destiny, for I am told 
That all our scientists are skeptical, 
And how can doubters enter into Heaven.^ 

Ah, silly souls, they never think of that! 

They search the earth for fossils in the rocks. 

And skeletons of prehistoric apes. 

And when they find them, call tliem "missing links," 

And build up theories just to suit themselves. 

Yes, so they guess and guess and guess again, 
And prove by theory what they wish to prove — 
Although I never knew them to convince 
A soul, outside their own foolhardy clique. 
Of any truth in all their guessing. Now 
I think this is a sin against our God, 
Aunt Mary; am I right.? 

Aunt Mary. 

Quite right, may be. 
My dear, and yet why not attempt, at least, 
To gain a better knowledge of the Truth; 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 63 

For our Creator must have placed us here 
To read His work in nature, and so live 
A useful life to mankind ere we go 
To enter life upon another plane. 

Jenny. 
Well, Aunty, most is guess-work anyway; 
Today's the day He's given us to work, 
And we can trust Him, there is naught to fear. 
Who knows what stands at far tomorrow's gate? 

Anna. 

Oh, hush up, Jenny, those are idle words! 
We grow so irreligious in our talk. 
And wander out in darkness — we have strayed 
Too far all ready. 

Willis. 

Well, let us return 
To earth and talk about the globe. 

Anna. 

Oh yes, 
That is a better subject for us now. 
And I'll begin it; let me see, the world; — 
This world's a sphere and round — or nearly so — 
'Tis flattened at the poles — no one's been there 
To see how flat it is, of course, but then 
We know 'tis flat! and that 'tis hollow, too; 
Why yes, the gnomes which we have read about 
Inhabit all the center of our globe. 
The proof I offer is that all the world's 
Great poets and philosophers agree 
To this. 

Aunt Mary. 
Your theory's not a solid one. 



64 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

Geo. 
It rings a trifle hollow to my ears, 
Besides that's old, dear sister, very old; 
And unscientific, too, for all great minds 
Are now agreed upon a theory which 
Is more in keeping with the laws of truth. 

This world is but a drop of water, formed 
By a magnetic law, — which spun itself 
From out the mists of heaven in ages past, 
And gathered up the atmospheric dust 
To form these continents and islands, which 
Now float as bog upon its watery face. 
The proof is that the continents of old 
Were known to float together; even now 
It has been proven scientificly, 
That we are drifting toward the Philippines, 
And leaving Spain still farther to our east. 

Aunt Mary. 
That liquid theory, George, it seems to me. 
Is in deep water. 

Willis . 

Yes, too deep for me. 
And yet that theory was accepted once 
As truth by all the learned scientists; 
But very recently the world's been shocked 
By the discoveries of an Irishman. 

By most scientific methods, he has shown 
This world to be a hag of wind ^ and claims 
The rotary motion which is given it. 
Sustains its surface like a waxen rind. 
Which keeps the wind a prisoner and makes 
The world float as a bubble on the sea 
Of ether. Proof: — his science proves it so. 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE^ 65 



Anna. 

Ha, ha! how cute! but if the rind should split 
The rush of the escaping gas would blow 
The stars to atoms, while the earth would sink, 
A bursted football to eternity. 

Aunt Mary. 
There's too much wind in that, my boy. Who next? 

Anna. 

Now, Jenny, we have all expressed ourselves, 
While you've remained so silent, sitting there 
Beside the window where the moon streams in; — 
You're dreaming, girl, her light's too bright for you; 
Please face the room and favor us at once 
With spheric lore. 

Jenny . 
I have no theory 
Which can compare with any of your own; 
It may be Harvey has— and here' he comes.. 

Anna . 

Why, sure enough! our poet comes at last! 

I see him in the moonlight— passing now 

The shadow of the orchard wall — and it 

Is late already! I wonder where he's been? — 

Oh see, he gazes up the apple trees; 

He stops; now comes again; he's looking for 

That bird or It which flew away from him 

The other day, — or else he's making rhymes 

On Luna, she's so very bright tonight; 

Enough to raise a poet's heart above 

The fairest maid on earth, with all her charms 

And smiles — but hist! he enters by the hall. 



66 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

Aunt Mary. 
Good evening, Harvey; we are waiting here, 
What makes you late? 

Harvey. 

I met a farmer boy 
Who told me he had seen what he believed 
To be a bat fly thro' the moonlit sky. 
And settle down among the apple trees, 
And he was looking for it, so I thought 
I'd stop and help him in the search, which made 
Me late. 

Anna. 

And did you find it, brother dear? 

Harvey. 
He must have been mistaken, for we spent 
An hour trailing thro' the dew wet grass 
And currant bushes for a sign of life. 
Without success, — and then we gave it up. 

Aunt Mary. 
Well, we've enjoyed this evening very well. 
Discussing problems of our little globe. 
And yet we've missed you, Harvey, very much; 
We have no leader in scientific themes 
When you're away; we all get lost in talk; 
But I am told that you have gained of late 
Some newer knowledge of our little sphere — 
Your mother having dropped me hints of this — 
Please, will you place before us here tonight 
The plan by which it was builded in the sky? 

Willis. 
I've given them those theories of the world 
Which you have given me at different times. 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 67 

We have discussed and weighed the bag of wind, 
The drop of water and the hollow shell, 
The ball of fire and the volcanic sparks. 
You told us of. 

Harvey. 
I have related much 
Which I had read in speculative books, 
But I've discovered very recently 
That these are false, and that such writings are 
But stumbling-blocks to science, in a wa}^ 
This world's true face has never yet been brought 
To light as I much hope to bring it soon. 
For I have found a miniature of earth. 

Anna. 
Where did you find it, on the mountain peaks 
Of Colorado? 

Harvey. 
Yes, exactly so — 
When I was strolling o'er the Snowy Range 
With pick and glass in search of specimens. 
Along the cliffs of the Jurassic rock — 
Where often blows a cold and vigorous wind 
From off the inland plains — I saw a sight 
Which gave me thoughts which I must give the world. 

In just one moment, like a flash, there came 
The true solution of creation, which 
I will outline in story if I may 
Intrust 3^ou with my fullest confidence. 
As I'm not ready yet to have the world 
Know aught of this, — my great discovery. 

Anna. 

Well, tell us all about it, Harvey dear. 



68 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUM BINE. 

AVe'U never breathe it to a living soul. 

Harvey . 
'Twas on that towering Snowy Range one day, 
When I had reached the summit bright with sun, 
That I beheld some flying objects which 
Came from a pinnacle of shattered rock, 
And whirling round and round upon the air, 
Like leaves of autumn in an eddying gust, 
They crossed a broken ridge and disappeared. 

I sought the rocks from whence they took their flight, 

And found that there were others starting out 

To have a sail on billows of the wind. 

It seemed that there was quite a nest of them, 

Hid deep in fissures of the mossy rock, 

To wait the coming of a fresh 'ning gale, 

That they might mount and circle o'er the land. 

In searching 'mong the grass and matted moss, 
I found one little chap — a ground-like ball — 
Hastening to join his comrades on the wind; 
But I secured it as 1 would a bird. 

'Twas like an orange, with a wrinkled skin, 
And holding it within my hands it throbbed 
With life and fear, while tiny pufifs of smoke 
Came out at little openings on its side. 

I took my glass to magnify the find: 
There were depressions o'er its little shell 
Filled full with water, as our lakes and seas; 
Thro' these clear pools the creature seemed to breathe, 
As well as see, for they were also eyes. 

I held it up toward the light and placed 
My microscope upon it, when I found 
That I was gazing at a fairy world! — 
A real, a living world! — for all at once 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 09 



A rainbow flashed across a little lake 
Upon its side much as we see tliem span 
The foaming basin of a waterfall, 
Or hills upon a rainy continent. 

Then looking closer, I beheld, far back, 
A soft light falling thro' a vapory mist 
Upon a chain of hillocks, dim with smoke. 
1 took my knife and severed this queer thing, 
When from its little vitals there gushed forth 
A stream of blood-like lava, pouring hot 
From out the little being, while 1 watched 
Its beating heart grow limp and still in death. 

Here, then, Av^as but a world in miniature! 
A model of the earth we live upon! 
Placed by the great creative Hand upon 
This planet as a little harmless toy. 
To teach to mankind that these lesser worlds 
Are but a type of this, the larger one. 

There gazing o'er the lonely mountain land. 
Within my hand a wrecked and lifeless world , 
A sadness fell upon me— giving way 
To joyful triumph as the new-born truth 
Dawned slowly like the morning of a life — 
Until I cried in ecstasy of great delight, 
*'0h Earth! how strange, how wonderful thou art! 
And no philosopher has fathomed thee!" 

Anna. 
And Where's this model— where a living world? 

Harvey. 
Well, hunting thro' the grass and weeds, I found 
Another which had rolled beneath a stone, 
And brought it home securely in my trunk, 
To study out the great phenomenon. 



70 IN THE LAJND OF THE COLUMB IJNE. 

One day I wished to show it to a friend, 
And took it from the trunk, when it escaped 
And darting thro' the window, disappeared. 

Aunt Mary. 

Now who's the friend you mention, may I ask? 
Some one in whom you truly must confide 
Your many secrets. Now, I think of it, 
Your mother told me just the other day 
A pleasant slory — ^ 

Jenny. 

Now, Aunty, may I speak 
For him.? He's told his little story now. 
And I can testify to part of it — 
The latter part — I am the favored friend 
In whom he places confidence. 

One day 
While we were in his "freak-menagerie" — 
As George has pleased to call it — he brought out 
This miniature of earth he's spoken of. 
And told its fairy history to me. 
It was so queer! It puffed its little sides, 
And seemed to struggle with an inward power 
To liberate itself to roam again ! 
I asked him to intrust the little soul 
To me; I wished to hold it in my hands; 
But when I clasped my fingers round it, oh! 
It was so creepy that it made me start; 
For fear the little beating thing might bite! 
In this unguarded moment, I relaxed 
My hold upon it when it pulled away 
And darted thro' the window! 

When at last 
I realized the loss and what I'd done^ 
I broke down moaning like a little child; 



PARLOR THEORIES OF THE GLOBE. 71 

But Harvey here consoled me, saying he 
Could get another when the summer comes. 
I told him I should go myself and search 
Until I found one, now that I had been 
So very, very stupid as to lose 
For him so strange and rare a specimen . 

But he again assured me that the loss 
Was not so much as future gain might be, 
And if I went to search the Snowy Range 
To find another, he'd accompany me. 
And we would undertake the search together. 
Now just what followed, I will not divulge. 
For what was said is onl}^ precious to 
Harvey and mj-^self . 

And all the plans 
Are made awaiting summer's early blooms; 
"VVe may be young, but not too young to start 
Upon the voyage of scientific life, 
And I for one do not intend to lose 
Another world intrusted to my hands. — 
And now as Harvey is to see me home. 
And it is getting late, may we adjourn 
To carry home each blessing and — Good-night. 



PART IV, 

SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 



SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 



PRELUDE. 

God-loved and God-clolhed and God-gilded 
With the gold which eve showers in dust — 

God-thought and God-wrought and God-builded, 
Are the mountains, far into the west; 

These mountains which shoulder the sunsets 
While a darkness flows over the rest. 

High mountains which reach into spaces, 
Intersected by worlds of the night, 

To companion star- clusters, star- faces, 
Star worlds which are gilded with light; 

To companion these hosts till the roses 
Of morning fall over the height. 

Bold mountains which gather the roses 

To array in their soft, airy caps. 
To be pressed to their cold, snoyvy noses, 

And be tucked in their vast, winter wraps, — 
Falling down, as the shrinking night closes, 

On their far-covered, pine-scented laps. 



76 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



MORNING. 

The peaks are tipped with morning, 

While o'er the parkland steals 
A soft, gray light which follows 

The night's retreating heels; 
The creeks, deep in their canons, 

Still sing and sing of night. 
While o'er them fly the arrows 

Of soft and rosy light. 

A thin, gray smoke still lingers 

From smouldering fires, where 
The camper casts his blankets 

To drink the morning air. 
And feeds his dying embers. 

Until the sparkling blaze 
Leaps up to aid the morning 

Along the rocky ways. 

With back against his fire. 

He gazes far away 
To peaks along the ranges. 

Where breaks the blaze of day. 
And sees the shadows shrinking — 

Wee, tardy strips of night. 
Which lie corraled by morning, 

Too weak to face the light. 



SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 77 



ON THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE. 

I. 

Glimpses of snow-capped mountains, 

Reaches of lonely plains, 
Parks which are dark with pinons. 

And skies where the sunset wanes; 

Threading of silvery streamlets. 
Drifting of distant herds, 

Quivering leaves of the aspen. 
And flocks of beautifiil birds. 



II. 

God-led upon the mountain-side, 
I tramp these sunny, green inclines, 

And drink in draughts of pure delight 
The healing odor of the pines. 

The flowers scattered by the way. 
Nod in the soft and gentle breeze — 

Kissed by the tender lips of day, 

They cast their perfume 'mong the trees. 

Stray members of the distant herd, 

Adrift along secluded ways. 
With peavines streaming from their horns. 

Lift high their clean, sleek heads to gaze. 

Above my head, from grove to grove. 
Great clouds of birds swoop thro' the air 

To colonize each bush and tree, 
And scatter music everywhere. 



78 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

Great, spreading mesas, where the grass 
Rolls like a sea before the winds, 

To break against the aspen clumps, 
Which reach dominions of the pines. 

I stand and gaze o'er sunny hills 
To hazy peaks and lazy plains, 

Or pick my way with dreamy heart 
Where Nature leads and entertains. 



Well mapped the valley lies afar, 

Thro' which the streamlets thread their way. 
By sunny cliffs, thro* willowed shade. 

And in the open face of day. 

Far on the pinon parks below. 

The wormfence climbs the clay-streaked hills, 
Along the bluffs, by scattered pines, 

To dip in shallows of the rills. 

Across the meadows, lush with grass, 
Loose bands of horses sweep away 

From knoll to knoll, with flowing manes. 
Like shadows passing thro' the day. 

Far out upon the distant plain. 

Which stretches from the mountain lands 
Like one vast, undulating sea. 

The lonely herdsman's cabin stands. 

While just beyond, the grazing sheep, 
Like white clouds fallen on the land, 

Drift on and on past broken buttes, 
Uplifted from the desert sand, 



SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 



Oh, what a place to stray and dream, 
And think of Nature and her God! 

To dream and stray with aimless feet 
Along her bloom-besprinkled sod! 

And when the peaks at last are gained. 
How sweet to watch the slanting beams, 

Of sunset, as she softly wanes 

To fill the mountain land with dreams. 



IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE DEATH OF AUTUMN. 

On the breast of dying Autumn 
Lie tlie withered blossoms now; 

Soft, her golden hair is falling, 

While the death-dew stamps her brow, 

At her feet an angel standeth, 

Wrapped in cold and somber cloud, 

And the winds are singing dirges, 
As the frost prepares her shroud. 

Darker yet the days sweep over, 
Colder grow the winds of fate, 

Redder still the distant sunset. 
Flashing thro' its opal-gate. 

Softly sinking. Summer's sister. 
With her angel's pleading call, 

Fades into the arms of heaven. 
And December spreads her pall. 



SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 81 



THE MOUNTAIN. 

I watched the distant evening star 
Sink lower in the cold, blue west, 

Until it reached yon lonely peak, 
And glimmered on its snowy crest. 

There as a queen in robes of white. 

The mountain wore her sparkling gem, 

Until the sinking hand of night, 
Removed it from her diadem. 

Bereft, in darkness thus, she wrapped 
A cloudy mantle round her form 

In sullen majesty, and wept 

The lowering heavens into storm. 



IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



A COLORADO NIGHT. 

The moon is drifting o'er the peaks 

All capped with crowns of snowy white, 
Reflected from the tumbling creeks 

Which murmur to the ear of night. 
Across the rocks her waning light 

Is lavished with a soothing glow 
On sleeping Nature — dreaming quite, 

The dreams which dreamers love to know; 
While in the pines 
The whispering winds 
Rock coney cradles to and fro. 

The moon is down; the world is dark; 

A faint light lingers o'er the crest 
Of distant peaks, which dimly mark 

The ragged range along the west. 
The sinking stars upon the breast 

Of midnight pause, and twinkle o'er 
Yon western world, as if they rest. 

And rest and rest to spin no more, — 
While in the pines 
The nestling winds 
Are whispering softer than before. 



SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 83 



NATURE'S POETS. 

The sweetest poets that rehearse 

The songs of Love divine, 
Are those that never write a verse, 

Or never scan a line. 

Out in the garden of their God, 
With sunlight smiling fair. 

They sing but to the virgin sod 
And nodding blossoms there. 

Oh, happy birds that flock the grove, 
And on the meadows throng, 

You fill me, thrill me with a love 
That's native to your song! 

I hail you when the early breeze 
Steals softly o'er the glade. 

And morning fills your palace trees 
With checkered sun and shade. 

I breathe a music in the air 
As morning's first bequest, 

I hold it as a fitting prayer 
When sunset paints the west. 

The grandest poems of our Love 

Are never writ by pen , 
They seem to fall from heaven above, 

And seal the lips of men. 



84 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE WIND. 



I. 



The wind creeps in with the early light 
O'er the sim-tlecked clouds of morn, 

And mounts to the back of the flying night, 
Like a trumpeter with his horn. 

The midday hears in the vaulted blue, 

The sound of his plaintive cry, 
And the house eaves catch his weird halloo, 

As he sweeps to the open sky. 

II. 

The wind creeps out with the fleeting day — 
Creeps out thro' the evening gate, 

And the clouds blush red — then turn to gray 
As the hour grows dark and late. 

The night is on and the little stream 

Is the only voice I hear — 
Its murmur falls like a passing dream 

Of music on my ear. 



SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 85 



TWILIGHT. 

Twilight falls upon the village, 
And the summits far away, 

As a pall of ashes, covering 
Up the embers of the day. 

With it falls the sense of slumber, 
Filling all the dream}^ eyes 

With a twilight, just as restful 
As the twiliofht of the skies. 



IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



AUTUMN. 

I. 

Falling, — 
The red and the golden leaves 
From the lonely bush which the wind bereaves, 
While the magpie's cry the silence grieves — 

Calling. 

II. 

Sinking, — 
The disk of the Autumn sun. 
With the shadows creeping the parks upon, 
While here I watch when the day is done — 

Thinking. 



SONGS FROM MOUNTAIN LANDS. 87 



SONG. 

Ah, the sun will never darken 
Till we need no more the sun; — 

And the harp will not be broken 
Till its melodies are done. 

Heaven's love, in visions beaming 
Like a light, will ever beam, 

While the dreamer plans the dreaming 
And the building of his dream . 

And the stars will rise and twinkle. 
And the moon will wax and wane, 

And the ocean roll and wrinkle. 
While the flowers need the rain. 



PART IV. 

SUN AND SHADOW. 



SUN AND SHADOW. 



SONG. 

The one who breaths the air of Love 
Knows but the bloom of earth below, 

Knows but the blue of heaven above, 
Knows just what lovers ought to know. 

Knows but the rose and not the thorn, 
And gazing o'er his bright 'ning life, 

He sees the fields of Pleasure rife 
With blossoms op 'ning in the morn. 

He never looks for mold or cold 

Within his gardens hedged with bloom, 

He never looks for storm or gloom 

Within Love's heavens fringed with gold, 



92 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



TO-NIGHT. 

Oh come, my dear Love, while ihe fire is bright, 
And the witch-clouds are riding the gales of the night, 
And the wind is boo-hooing in the treetop and cone, 
And the moon is alone — in her glory alone; 

Come out of the darkness, come into the light. 
And let us be lovers again for to-night. 

I looked in the even an hour ago. 
Where the light faintly wavered on ranges of snow. 
And I saw a lone cloud in the glare of the west. 
With the rose of the sunset aglow on its breast. 

And I thought of thee, darling, so fair and so bright. 
And I wished we were lovers again for to-night. 

The birds in the forest are nestling in love, 
'Neath the light of the star-sprinkled heavens above; 
The wind in the mountains has dropped into sighs. 
As it steals softly over their dream-closed eyes, 
And brings the past to me in dreams of delight, 
And I long for the love of a lost one to-night. 

The path which leads back to the cradle of morn. 
Is dim with the tear-drops on flower and thorn; 
Oh the roses ungathered, unkissed and unpressed, 
And the thorns which have pierced the lone couch of 
my rest! — 
Would all be forgotten if hearts could unite, 
And dream as true lovers again for to-night. 

The midnight draws near and the heavens grow still; 
The wind falls to sleep on the brow of the hill. 
And the cold world is vacant, below and above, 
And life becomes worthless with no one to love; 
Hushed down into silence the embers grow white, 
And the darkness drops over your lover to-night. 



SUN AND SHADOW. 93 



ROCK, BOAT, ROCK AWAY. 

Out upon the lapping tide 

In our boat we rowed away; 
She was silting by my side, 

Young and happy, bright and gay. 
"We may tip the boat," I said, 

"Tip it, ere we get a mile!" 
But she tossed her pretty head — 
"We will risk it" — with a smile. 
Then we sang with faces fair, 
Blushing in the morning air, 
Laughing like the sunny spray, 
Rock, boat, rock away. 

Out upon the sea of life. 

Hand in hand we pulled together; 
While the summer land was rife 

With the blooms of rosy weather. 
"We may both capsize," I said, 

"If the waves be high, my dear!" 
On my arm she leaned her head. 
"We may risk it" — with a tear. 

Then we sang with hopeful eyes 
Lifted to the morning skies. 
Smiling in the arch of day. 
Rock, boat, rock away. 

Out upon the tide of age 
In our bark we drifted on; 

Life was turning down a page, 
And the light was almost gone. 

"We will soon go down," I said; 



94 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 

"What of death which lingers nigh?" 
On my breast she laid her head. — 
"We must risk it" — with a sigh. 
Then we sang with faces turned 
Out to where the sunset burned, 
Watching life's descending day, 
Rock, boat, rock away. 



SUN AND SHADOW. 95 



THE PASSING OF DEATH. 

Oh brother, the lightning is lashing the west, 
And the windows flash red in the glare; 

A rose has been placed on Love's beautiful breast, 
And there's death m the turbulent air! 

The angels have harnessed the horses of clouds. 
With their starry eyes sparkling and bright. 

And their long sweeping manes like the flowing of 
shrouds — 
For our sister is dying to-night! 

I hear them! they near us! brother, they come! 

Wheeling down thro' the path of the stars! 
With sparks flying wild thro' the windows of home. 

And a jar like the rumbling of cars! 

When the wheels of the thunder roll up at the door, 
And the whip of the lightning swings bright, 

They will bear her away from our home evermore. 
With those rain-spangled chargers of night. 

They will bear her away thro' dominions of air — 
Where the day-gilded satellites glide — 

By the Angel of Death, with a star in her hair, 
She will ride as a beautiful bride. 

I hear them! I hear them! the window grows dark — 
Ah, the hearse has drawn up at the door! 

And the steeds are so fiery and restless, and — hark! 
Who steps on the cold, silent floor? 

I see them! I see them! they're raising her now! 

And her face is so lovely, so white! 
Oh look! the dear sister! — a tear on her brow — 

She is bidding us, brother, good-night. 



IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



GOOD-NIGHT. 



It was dark — very dark — 
And I did not know the land, 
So she took me by the hand, 

And she led me till a spark 

From the lamplight of our home, 
Pierced the sullen depth of gloom, 

Then said sweetly, "There's the light, 

Charley, kiss me," and — "Good-night." 

II. 

Oh 'tis dark — very dark! 

Come and take my hand again, 
Love, for all this world is vain; 

Come and lead me till some spark. 
Like a star from heaven above, 
Kindles all my soul to love, 

Then say sweetly, "Here's the light. 

Kiss me, Charley," and — "Good-night.' 



SUN AND SHADOW. 97 



GOD AT WORK. 

— And God has labored, why not you? — 
Is lab 'ring, planning, forming still; 
Look out across the morning hill 

Besprinkled with the early dew. 

The pathway leading to the sun 
Is strewn with roses; — mile on mile 
Of bright'ning meadows wear the smile 

Of Nature's fair and charming one. 

Look out across the sunset hills 

And see the groves so tall and fair, 
Outlined against the ev'ning air. 

Where God still fashions, forms, and builds. 

Look in the starry face of night. 

And see those spinning worlds, which ^ine 
The quenchless lamps of One divine, 

Who works beside His holy light. 

Go stray away in twilight murk. 
Go stroll away thro' sunny hills. 
And hark! the birds, the winds, the rills, 

The soft, shy echoes! — God at work. 

Go lose thyself in woodlands fair. 
On lonely plains, in mountain lands. 
On deserts with their barren sands, 

And oceans,— God is working there. 

And so we hear Him in the hills. 
We feel Him, see Him in the air. 
We seek Him, find Him everywhere. 

We know Him, trust Him while He builds. 



IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



LOVE IS A FLOWER. 

Love is a flower 

Blooming to-day, 
Youth is its hour 

Passing awa}^ 
Passing from sunlight into the grey. 

Frost with the even 
». May come and may blight 

Love, which by Heaven 
Was garnished with light, 
And leave it to droop in the sadness of night. 

Love, then, fair maiden, 

Trustful while yet 
Life is unladen 

With painful regret, 
And the sun of thy promising life has not set. 



SUN AND SHADOW. 



if 



THE GROVE IN WINTER. 

When the birds have flown away, 

And the woods are stripped and lonely 
Where the timid rabbits play 

On their trails across the snow, 
How our hearts they sink and sadden, 

For the naked trees seem only 
Mossy skeletons, which haunt us 
As the loves of long ago. 



^ 



THE BEES AND THE BEAR. 

Once the Bees took up a homestead in an oak tree, large 

and tall. 
Where they pilfered from pre-emptions of a Bear; 
But there was no law for Bruin, so he robbed them 

after all, 
And he left them breadless, bedless, unaware! 



100 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE 



THIS WORLD. 

There are shadows in this world, 
On our hearts, as on the plain. 

There are hours when we feel 

Sharp regretting, filled with pain, 

And our spirits waver vexed — 

Are there shadows in the next? 

There are pleasures in this world; 

There is love which fills the heart. 
There is peace which soothes the soul, 

There is beauty, there is art. 
And the question comes; perplexed, 
Shall we have them in the next? 



SUN AND SHADOW. loi 



THE DAY OF LIFE. 

How fair the skies of childhood were — 

Life's morning filled with bud and bloom- 
But as the noon wheels overhead 
With clouds of trouble, care and dread, 
We shrink to face the gathering gloom. 

The drifting clouds which sweep the noon, 
Split, quite, our length 'ning day in two; 
But as the ev'ning, soft and bright, 
Spills o'er the hills her peaceful light. 
Our day appears as born anew. 

Turn not to face a cloudy past, 

For if the sunset hills be bright. 
We may be happy, and rejoice 
To know that ev'ning's soothing voice 
Calls out the hopeful stars of night. 



102 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE 



GOD'S FLOWERS. 

The throbbing heart with still repeat, 

Strikes off a life's declining hour, 
And at its last vibrative beat, 
It falls at Death's destroying feet, 
While o'er its ashes blooms complete. 
The Soul, as God's eternal flower. 

— So all our earthly loves are dust. 
Returning to the senseless clod — 
Which angels kiss — as angels must — 
With tender lips of loving trust. 
And lo! from out its gloom is thrust 
A blossom, looking up lo God. 



SUN AND SHADOW. 103 



EACH DAY IS A LIFE. 

Look with youthful eyes of pleasure 
On the blue hills far away, 

Where the sunbeams without measure 
Kiss the infant lips of day. 

Each day is a life, little life; 

Which comes with the breath of morning — 
With the soft, pleasing whispers of morning- 
With the light of the beautiful morning — 

And ends with its joy or its strife 

In a death, with the death of the evening — 
With the shades and the whispers of evening- 
With the wonderful myst'ries of evening. 

Look where hopeful vision flashes 
Where the sunset sinks away, 

As its life-blood turns to ashes 
On the aged cheeks of day. 



104 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE FLO^VER. 

A little flower, meek and mild, 

Spoke to the wind which hovered near- 
In straying thro' the woodland wild, 
To brush from off the timid child 
A little dewy tear. 

"Oh, Where's my mother? tell me, pray; 

I can not see her smiling near; 
And oh, how lonely 'tis to stay 
Thro' all the night and all the day 
Without my mother here!" 

"Betwixt .you, child, a winter lies," 

The wind replied, "and at this place 
Last year I watched her close her eyes. 
And fanned with cold November sighs, 
Her pinched and placid face." 

"But all her beauty, all her grace, 

Has gone but to enrich the bower. 
That you might wear a milder face, 
A brighter smile to cheer the place. 

And grow a sweeter flower." 



SUN AND SHADOW. 105 



A SAND STORM. 

Over the sunset plains it blows, 

The wind! the wind I the wind! 
And away in the whirling gust there goes 
The sand! — the clouds of sand! 
And the wings of wind 

In their hurried flight, 
Leave stretched behind 
In the moaning night, 
The drifts of sand 
On the midnight land. 
And the soap-weeds smothered on every hand. 

Now over the western hills it goes, 

T-he night — the night — the night — 
While close behind in a stream there flows 
The light — the rosy light. 
It is morning now, 

And the wind is down, 
And the gravelly brow 
Of each hill around. 
Is clean and bare, 
Save here and there. 
Where a soap- weed struggles to kiss the air. 

Pueblo, 1889. 



106 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 



I. 

Thro' the little square of glass, 
Baby sees the soldiers pass; 
And he picks from out the throng 
Papa, as he comes along, 
Marching with the soldiers gay, 
Honoring Memorial Day. 
How the baby laughs, and taps 
On the window at the caps. 
And the shining bayonets 
On the guns of the cadets 
And the veterans; — turning now, 
Sees his mother's thoughtful brow 
As she holds some flow'rs to give 
To some stranger's barren grave. 

11. 

Papa marches once again 
Sadly in the lines of men. 
But his baby watches not 
From the window of their cot. 
There a mother, standing back 
From the doorway, dressed in black. 
Watches pass the bright array 
As on last Memorial Day. 
But alone she standeth there. 
With some flowers fresh and fair, 
Gathered from the rocky steeps, 
For her baby boy who sleeps 
With his cheeks against the dark, 
In the little mountain park. 



SUN AND SHADOW. 107 



EVENING SHADOWS. 

Now the evening shadows fall 

Thro' the hall; 
See, they're closing in upon 
Every filmy strip of sun, 

And the hall is left in dark — 
Now the night-wind cold, and damp. 
Comes to greet us from the park — 
Light the lamp. 

Now, within our lighted walls, 

Hear the falls 
O'er the ledges of the creeks. 
Tumbling downward from the peaks 

To the valley land below — 
Sparkling in the starry beam. 

While the shadows deeper grow — 
Let us dream . 



108 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



LUNA'S HOUSEKEEPING. 

When the sun sank down 
With a weary frown 
O'er the western hilltops, bare and brown, 
It said to the moon, "Keep house to-night." 

So she swept the room 
With a windy broom, 
And^tore down trees in the dismal gloom, 
And ruffled seas to a foamy white. 

When the sun's great eye 
From the eastern sk}^ 
Gazed over the landscape, far and nigh, 
He cried, "What a sad, untidy floor!" 

''Oh my Luna, dear, 
What does this mean? — here 
Are wild disorder and grief! — I fear 

I can trust you, girl, with my house no more." 

There were branches piled 
In confusion wild. 
And the seas and the lakes and the streams defiled 
With the leaves, which the windy broom had 
hurled — 

While the moon a-west. 
Settled down to rest. 
With a beaming face and a laugh suppressed. 
Which tittered in moonbeams over the world. 



SUN AND SHADOW. 109 



A DECEMBER DAY. 

All day the bleary sun has shone 

In cold December's sky; 
All day the wind with weary moan 

Has swept the sidewalks by. 

Long, icy daggers line the eaves — 
The snow beneath our feet — 

While last November's crumpled leaves, 
Are rustling on the street. 

From out the chimneys of the town 
The smoke floats high and gray. 

To watch the cold sun setting down, 
And catch its last faint ray. 



no IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



THE PRAYER. 

A pious man one evening late, 
Was standing with uplifted face 

Besides his snow-capped garden gate, 
To watch the black clouds roll and race. 

Far down the wind-swept icy street. 
He saw a bent and wretched form, 

Who trudged with slow and weary feet, 
And wrestled with the rising storm. 

"Oh Lord,'' he prayed, "In mercy come, 
And soothe his unbefriended fate; 

He has no fire, no food, or home!" — 
Then turned to seek his blazing grate. 

Down from the scowl of heaven above 
There fell a voice to smite his ear! — 

"And thou hast home and hearts to love, 
What canst thou do his way to cheer.?" 

"Go seek thy brother, bring him in. 
If he be hungry, give him bread — 

For all humanity is kin — 

And share with him thy fire and bed. 

"Show him a friendship, kind and true, 
By sharing comforts of thv wealth, 

And never ask thy God to do 

What thou canst easily do thyself." 



SUN AND SHADOW. Ill 



ECHOES. 

The mist comes down to flank the fields, 
In banks of sad and sullen gray, 

Which trail the wood tops and the hills — 
The echoes will not ring to-day. 

But we, beside our fire bright, 
Can fancy, Love, that it is May; 

Can fancy that the Spring is here, 
Tho' all the echoes sleep to-day. 

The sadness of the skies without 

Chase not the thoughts of thee away, 

And e'er betwixt thy heart and mine. 
Shall tremble echoes all the day. 

Ah, in this world of greed and haste, 
With misty clouds around, above, 

So many lives are left to waste, 
Without an echo for their love. 



112 IN THE LAND OF THE COLUMBINE. 



SONG. 

Higher, oh thought, in thy flight; 

Sweetly the day has begun; 
Rise as a lark from the night, 

Mount to the face of the sun. 

Nearer, oh heart, to thy shrine; 

Day it has risen above; 
Nearer creations, divine, 

Nearer ideals of love. 

Truer, oh Life, in thy aim — 
Soul of the Infinite Soul, 

Spark of an Infinite Flame, 
Part of the Infinite Whole. 



JUL 26 1900 



